


Close to Mine

by Lafayesss



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Swearing, also, and drinking, brace yourself for crappy french, if you are french i apologize bc i am not, oh well here's all of them bc cur non, there's a lot of french so perhaps get google translate ready, why are there so many tags for the same pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafayesss/pseuds/Lafayesss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the meme going around that says "My New Year’s kiss is gonna be a shot of vodka." Not sure who to credit but it's not me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close to Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno if this is any good, but needed to post it before the night is over. Title's a part of the lyrics "Put your lips close to mine" from Treacherous (T-swift).
> 
> My last story's note was too long, so I'm keeping this short. Stay safe and happy New Year, everyone~

“ _Mon dieu,_ my New Year’s kiss this year will be a shot of vodka,” Lafayette slurred, eyebrows drawn in concern. Mulligan and Laurens snorted over their drinks as they swayed offbeat to the pounding music in the club.

“Who needs that countdown bullshit anyway?” Mulligan exhaled, smelling more like beer than the empty bottle in his hands. Laurens nodded in agreement, but he could have just been falling asleep with his glazed eyes open.

“Maybe not you, _mon cheri_ ,” Lafayette rolled his eyes, “but some of us still believe in love.” He threw back his head, downing his sixth shot.

Laurens, apparently not asleep, scoffed, “Your idea of love is watching French soap operas while completely hammered and weeping on someone’s lap. And before you deny it, I was that lap. I know.” Mulligan snickered. Ordering another bottle, he threw a free arm around Lafayette and pulled him close with drunk, miscalculated strength.

“I— _Merde_! Hercules, you are _barbaric_ ,” Lafayette cried out, rubbing the spot on his arm that had been squeezed much too tightly. Ignoring Mulligan’s whiny mimicry of his French accent and cry of pain, he huffed, “As I was saying, I don’t need a _lover_. It’s just lonely to look out the apartment window and see a thousand people making out under a giant ball.”

Mulligan raised an eyebrow. “Your fault for living near Times Square. That place is a nightmare. ‘S why we only go to your apartment when we _don’t_ want to sleep.”

Lafayette leaned over on the barstool, his face scrunched up . “ _Que ce soit, vieil homme_ _,_ ” he grumbled, making Laurens snigger into his drink.

“What? God, you know I can’t understand you,” Mulligan scowled, and Laurens laughed harder.

“ _Qui est le point_ ,” Lafayette shot back, offering a cheeky grin. As Mulligan frowned and began saying something else, Lafayette felt the world spin a little too fast for his liking. “Holy _fuck_ ,” he muttered, setting his shot glass down and gripping the counter. He vaguely heard Laurens ask if he was all right, but the pounding beat of the club music suddenly stopped, and his vision went white.

* * *

 “—so sorry, man. He really can’t take his liquor.” Laurens’s voice, faraway and slurred.

“It’s all right. New Year’s Eve makes me want to drink, too.” Who was that?

“Look at him. He looks so stupid.” Mulligan.

Lafayette scowled at Mulligan’s comment, mumbling, “ _You_ are stupid, you _surdéveloppé ours en peluche…”_ An unfamiliar voice laughed somewhere above his head, and he opened his eyes to three concerned faces hovering too close for comfort. “ _Merde,”_ he swore breathlessly. “What happened?”

Mulligan pulled him up from the floor and from the stranger’s warm lap. “You went all green from drinking too fast, but instead of falling off your stool and cracking your head like you should have, you fell onto my roommate.”

Ah. Lafayette put a hand to his feverish forehead and turned to face the newcomer. “ _Désolé_ ,” he apologized, remembering distantly that Mulligan had mentioned meeting up with his roommate later that night. “I’m Lafayette.” The roommate gave a quick grin, temporarily hiding the tiredness of his features and the bags under his blue eyes. Something fluttered in Lafayette’s stomach that he hoped wasn’t vomit.

“I know,” the man said. “John and Herc introduced me to you when you were out. I’m Alex.” They shook hands, and Lafayette resettled onto his barstool a bit shakily.

Resting his head on folded arms, Lafayette sighed. He mused to his empty shot glass, “Perhaps I should stop drinking for tonight.”

Laurens laughed and winked. “You still gotta get that New Year’s kiss, though, right?” he ribbed, making Lafayette groan.

Alex watched the two amusedly, taking a seat beside Lafayette. “New Year’s kiss?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. Lafayette burrowed his face further into his arms, and Mulligan grinned.

“Laf here was just whining about how he’ll be kissing a shot of vodka at midnight,” he eagerly explained. When he got no response from the man in question, he held up a hand and fake-whispered over Lafayette’s head, “He’s been all soft and bitter ever since Adrienne left him.”

Lafayette shot Mulligan a sharp glare, but the quick movement exacerbated his headache, and he winced. “Laurens, shut him up, _please,_ ” he muttered, head down once more. “Punch him, or something. Knock out a tooth or three.”

Alex leaned against the counter and laughed sympathetically. “Adrienne? Sounds like me and Eliza,” he sighed. Lafayette opened one curious eye and looked up. “Best thing that ever happened to me. Left because I was more married to school than committed to my girlfriend.” Mulligan and Laurens hummed in understanding. “What about you, Lafayette?” he asked, and Laurens cringed as a devilish smile spread across Mulligan’s face.

“Oh God, Laf, we gotta tell him. Please?” Mulligan pleaded. He clasped his hands around his bottle and scooted his stool closer. Lafayette groaned even louder, muffling the sound by burying his face in his arms again.

“Wow, something Herc has to _beg_ to reveal. That’s intense,” Alex grinned. Laurens whistled in agreement, watching Mulligan from behind his shot glass with a grin of his own.

“Laf, _please_. Alex is cool. He’s a bud. C’mon.” With each word, Mulligan got progressively closer to Lafayette’s ear. He nudged and bothered him until Lafayette swatted him away.

“Fine _, trou du cul.”_ Lafayette muttered a string of French insults under his breath and turned away, hoping the club lights would disguise the flush of his cheeks.

Mulligan whooped and sat back, looking at Alex with satisfaction painted all over his face. “Adrienne left Laf because he’s gay. Like, gay as can be. A rainbow, basically. So gay.”

“Oh.”

Laurens and Mulligan dissolved into laughter like schoolgirls, with only Laurens possessing enough decency to try to recover. Lafayette rolled his eyes and ordered another shot.

* * *

 

“So then the guy tries to buy me a drink, asks me to vote for him to be president of the debate club,” Alex explained, waving his hands around, much more relaxed after downing a bottle. Lafayette watched him over his glass, a faint smile on his lips. “I was like, you’re kidding. You go around debate club talking about how we should sit back and _not_ speak our minds, and now you’re trying to pass as a man with ideals? Really.” He ordered another bottle and popped the top.

Mulligan shook his head. “Tell me you punched him,” he said.

“Oh, I wish. But Professor Washington was right there, and I somehow don’t think he’d appreciate that very much,” Alex grinned wryly. They’d been swapping stories, talking the entire night away. As Alex took a swig of the beer, Laurens glanced at his watch and made a noise somewhere between surprise and dread.

“ _Shit_. My girlfriend’s gonna kill me if I go back this late drunk outta my mind,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I need to sober up and sneak back or crash at one of yours for the night.”

Mulligan began to say something before cursing, too. Lafayette turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Alex,” Mulligan muttered, head between his hands, “was the landlord talking about locking up early _tonight?_ ” Alex squinted in drunken thought, swishing the gulp of beer in his mouth before swallowing and nodding slowly.

“Fuck. Yeah. New Year’s Eve. He said something about leaving the city early.” He ran a hand over his tired features, massaging his temples and exhaling through his nose. “Completely forgot.” They sat in silence for a moment before Alex mused, “Well, it looks like we’re homeless tonight.”

“Um, hello?” Lafayette waved his shot glass in front of Alex, tripping over his words. “ _C’est moi_ , Lafayette. I have an apartment. No roommates. Free of charge, because Mulligan and Laurens are cheapskate parasites and because you’re kind of cute.”

Laurens choked, spilling his drink and earning a dirty look from the bartender. Mulligan made an “ooh” noise, and slowly, a dopey, intoxicated grin stretched across Alex’s lips. “Your place, then, _si vous le voulez bien.”_ Lafayette smiled back.

“ _Laurens_ , they’re being French again,” Mulligan cried, grabbing for Laurens’s arm but missing by a few feet. Laurens shook his head and swatted the drunk mountain of a man away.

Loudly, Lafayette whispered to Alex and Laurens, “ _Le imbécile tente de communiquer_ ,” making the two laugh and Mulligan’s scowl deepen. 

* * *

 

“Every—” flick “—damn—” flick “—channel—” flick “—is about New Year’s,” Lafayette complained, throwing up his remote in exasperation. Laurens and Mulligan were sprawled across his couch like the freeloaders they were, Laurens completely and utterly asleep. Lafayette nudged Mulligan with a socked foot. “ _Imbécile,_ take off your shoes. This is a _home_.”

“Ain’t much of a home,” he retorted, but he obliged. “What’s wrong, grumpy your French soap operas aren’t on? That you got no lap to cry on?” Before Lafayette could smack Mulligan’s smiling face with the remote, Alex poked his head out from the kitchen.

“Coffee?” he offered, raising a mug. “Or did you want me to get the bottle of vodka in your fridge, for your kiss?” He gave Lafayette a sly wink, and Lafayette frowned to mask the way his heart skipped a beat.

“Ha ha, adorable. _Très drôle._ ” He reached out for the second coffee mug in Alex’s hand as he walked over to the sofa.

Alex held up the free hand in mock defense, but his slow grin betrayed him. “ _Seulement essayer d'aider_ ,” he promised.

“God, I really need to learn French. Or get new friends,” Mulligan rolled his eyes. He shifted, trying to get into a comfortable position that didn’t include getting Laurens’s feet in his face.

“I don’t know why you won’t let me teach you, _mon ami,_ ” Lafayette smirked, his accent a purr on his tongue and his eyebrows arched. Alex made a small noise behind his coffee mug, but Mulligan spoke before Lafayette could ask what was wrong.

“Hmm, maybe it’s because the last time you taught me a phrase, I got _slapped_ by that French girl I was trying to impress. She almost pressed charges!” he hissed, eyes narrowed.

Alex had to put down his mug from laughing. He settled in between the two bantering men on the couch, turning to ask Lafayette what he’d taught Mulligan when he realized he’d miscalculated their proximity. The Frenchman was much, much closer than he’d thought, and for a brief moment, neither of them moved away.

Then, the moment was over. Lafayette fell back onto the armrest of the couch, crying out, “ _Christ, il n'y a pas de place pour quatre ici!”_

Mulligan rolled his eyes and shot back, “No one understands you!” and Alex reminded himself how to breathe.

Under the arm he’d thrown over his face, Lafayette felt his cheeks heat up. This wasn’t how he’d pictured his New Year’s Eve. He peeked out from his position to watch Alex move, silhouetted in the city lights filtering in from the window and washed in the colors of the TV. Outside the dim living room, he could hear the excited chatter of the crowd in Times Square growing as midnight approached.

Alex swiped the remote from Lafayette’s hand to turn to the channel that was streaming the commotion outside. Giving a low whistle at the festivities, he leaned back in his seat and drew up his knees. “Damn. I’ve never watched the countdown before,” he murmured.

Lafayette snorted. “What kind of New Yorker are you?” he asked, pulling himself up from his position, careful not to move too close to the other man.

“I’m a law student before I’m a New Yorker,” Alex responded. Eyes wide and still glued to the colors on the screen, he blew over the top of his mug. “Too much homework. Also why I’m trying to sober up, so I don’t wake up completely hung over tomorrow. There’s work to be done even on New Year’s.” He sighed, taking a long sip of coffee.

As he watched Alex, a smile tugged at Lafayette’s lips. He peered over at Mulligan, who’d fallen suspiciously quiet on Alex’s other side. ‘ _Can’t sleep’ my ass,_ he thought as the giant man napped soundly, cuddled up against Laurens’s legs. But he was relieved. He had an idea that he wasn’t about to let Mulligan see. He’d never live it down.

Alex felt a hand at his elbow, and he turned to see a faint smile on Lafayette’s lips, his eyes bright. The Frenchman nodded to the window, quietly rising from the couch. Alex followed.

“A fire escape. _Est-ce pas un peu cliché?_ ” he grinned, but Lafayette made a face, and they climbed onto the cold metal landing anyway.

“I’m only trying to make you a true New Yorker,” Lafayette murmured, but there was something heavy in his smooth, low voice. His eyes were half lidded, watching the New Year’s Eve countdown sprawling out before them. He hummed along to the song blasting through the streets and leaned his head against the building’s façade. They settled down, hugging their knees against their torsos.

Alex followed the other man’s gaze, taking in the colors and sounds. It really was better to see it in person, but his eyes kept returning to Lafayette. He hid half his face with the coffee mug, watching the way Lafayette’s eyelashes fluttered in the light when he blinked.

“Alexander?” Lafayette’s accent curled around Alex’s full name, and Alex wondered why the other man kept taking his breath away.

“Hm?”

“Are you paying attention to the countdown?”

Alex blinked. “No,” he whispered honestly. Lafayette laughed, the way his lips turned up sidetracking Alex even more. “It’s your fault,” he said into his mug.

Lafayette turned to him now, his head still resting lazily against the wall. “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress the teasing tone in his voice. “How so?”

Alex’s cheeks flushed. He didn’t know what to say, so he just said the first and only thought in his head. “You’re distracting.”

A hazy smile made its way across Lafayette’s lips. Maybe it was the too-many shots of vodka or the hot coffee, but despite the New York winter chill, Lafayette was warm. “Well I see why you’ve never watched the countdown, if you’re so easily distracted,” he murmured. Neither paid much attention anymore, but as the crowd below them cheered, Lafayette breathed, eyes still locked on Alex’s, “Ah. It’s midnight.”

“Too bad your vodka’s still in the fridge,” Alex whispered, his voice caught in his throat. They were so close, he could smell the sweetness of Lafayette’s breath more than the coffee in his hands. Lafayette moved in closer, and Alex didn’t pull away.

“Too bad,” he agreed, his lips finding Alex’s even in the pressing darkness. The kiss was easy, soft as they relaxed into each other’s touch. Their lips lingered, brushing again and again, both wanting to deepen it and neither knowing if they should. Lafayette spared a glance back at the sleeping forms on his couch, but Alex grinned.

“Who cares about them?” he murmured into Lafayette’s neck. Lafayette laughed, and Alex caught the sound between his lips, breathing deep, feeling their mouths move together.

“Screw it,” Lafayette exhaled, breathless between the kisses. He leaned into each touch, skin flushing and hands tangling in slow urgency.

They exchanged the taste of each other’s lips and drew out the kisses. Lafayette’s fingers threaded through Alex’s hair, angling his head to find the sweetest spot. Alex pressed closer with each inhale, cupping Lafayette’s jaw with one hand, losing himself in the kisses. Their hands found each other in the dark over and over again, and Lafayette found it easier to get drunk on this man than vodka. He smiled against Alex’s lips and felt Alex smile back. 

* * *

 

On the couch, Laurens nudged Mulligan with his foot. “I won. You owe me ten bucks,” he whispered sleepily. Mulligan made a face.

“Can we just drink Laf’s vodka instead?” he grumbled, sitting up slowly as the lovebirds made out none-too-quietly outside.

Laurens rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he conceded, peeking over the top of the couch. Careful to stay out of sight, he smiled. “Aren’t they cute as hell? Told you.”

Mulligan scoffed. “Sure. You’re the matchmaker of the decade, congrats. But it just means _our_ New Year’s kiss is a shot of vodka.”

“Shit, you’re right. But at least I have a girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh, fuck you, Laurens. Get me that drink. I need it.”

Laurens shot Mulligan a wide, cheeky grin before disappearing into the kitchen for the bottle of vodka.


End file.
